


Of Monsters and Bears

by Abi_A



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Childhood, Credence Barebone Lives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Teddy Bears, Thesaurus Bear, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 15:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10311632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abi_A/pseuds/Abi_A
Summary: When he was very young, about three, Percival had trapped himself in a closet. He hadn’t meant to. He’d gone in looking for Thesaurus Bear (he didn’t know what a Thesaurus was, but he’d heard Papa say it once and decided that it was the perfect name for a Bear)  and he’d been too impatient to wait for a grown up or a house elf to help him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Something I wrote based on [this](http://gravesfrommacusa.tumblr.com/post/158321942599/au-in-which-graves-is-utterly-touch-starved-and).
> 
> Basically, the original Percival Graves is completely touch-starved after his captivity and just needs a hug.

 

When he was very young, about three, Percival had trapped himself in a closet. He hadn’t meant to. He’d gone in looking for Thesaurus Bear (he didn’t know what a Thesaurus was, but he’d heard Papa say it once and decided that it was the perfect name for a Bear)  and he’d been too impatient to wait for a grown up or a house elf to help him.

It had only taken a moment to go inside the closet and grab Thesaurus Bear, but only a moment had been enough and the door had slammed shut behind him and he was trapped.

He’d tried to be brave at first, and not cry out. He tried to use the unlocking charm _Alohamora_ but he had difficulties with his Ls and his Rs. He could _say_ them, but they wanted to go in the wrong places.

And he was too little to do magic on purpose yet, though he sometimes could summon things to himself if he didn’t think too hard about it, and once when he was really mad at Binky - she had given him strawberry ice cream instead of chocolate, he’d managed to explode the bowl.

Mamma and Papa had been so proud of him for that.

He was being brave and halfway through his third useless try at _Arohamola_ when he suddenly realised that there was a monster hiding in the toy box. Up until now it was a perfectly ordinary box that held his building blocks and train tracks and where the other stuffed animals slept but he knew, he just _knew_ that there was a monster in there and that it was going to eat him.

He’d clung to Thesaurus Bear so hard that one of his button eyes popped off and screamed at the top of his lungs for his mother- and she had come. Apparating immediately next to him, not caring that she banged her head on a shelf.

She’d swooped him up in her arms and rescued him and Thesaurus Bear, comforted him with hugs and kisses and reassurances that there were no monsters in the closet, and even if they were Mamma would always _always_ be there to protect him from them.

* * *

 

There are still monsters, but they live outside the closet.

And there’s one that’s eaten his life, stolen his face, and trapped him here.

Percival tries to be brave, tries to escape, tries not to lose himself in the dark, but it’s hard. It’s hard to be brave when he’s all alone, without even Thesaurus Bear for company.

He screams for his mother sometimes but she’s been dead five years.

She can’t protect him from the monsters. She isn’t coming to rescue him.

No one is coming to rescue him.

* * *

 

At first, Percival can’t bear to be touched after he is rescued. It’s all too much, the lights are too bright, the voices too loud, and he’s so sensitised that the slightest touch feels like a brand burning into his skin.

He flinches away, snarls and snaps if anyone gets too close.

Tina comes to tell him that the Second Salem boy they’d tried to help was the Obscurial after all.  She tells him that Credence is dead and tries to take his hand when the lights get so bright they cause tears to blur his eyes. “Don’t _touch_ me!” he hisses at her. Her fingers sting like nettles, but the pity in her eyes sting more.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t save him,” she says. “I’m sorry we couldn’t save you.”

You did, he wants to say, but the words stick in his throat. Instead all he says is “I’m sorry too.”

* * *

 

As soon as he’s succeeded in convincing everyone that all he wants is to be left alone, Percival realises that he doesn’t want to be.

He’s pushed them all away so effectively, that they give him a wide berth, making sure they keep their distance.

He supposes he did ask that they give him some space and stop trying to smother him.

He misses his mother and her easy, loving hugs that she would envelope him in, whether he wanted her to or not. He remembers being embarrassed of them when he was a teenager, what a fool he had been.

He misses the infrequent, but strong embraces of his father - who had always been so proud of him, from his first burst of accidental magic, to when he had stood beside the President and accepted the position of Director of Magical Security. What would he think, if he could see Percival now?

He even misses Thesaurus Bear, lost during a trip to the beach, two years after he and Percival had gotten trapped in the closet. Percival had cried and cried for a whole week when he realised his bear was gone, and though he’d been given other bears, other toys after that, it was never the same.

It was the first time his heart had been broken, though it wouldn’t be the last.

He misses the boy - Credence. He misses how receptive he used to be, how he’d looked at Percival like the sun rose and set with him.

He misses how Credence used to be so responsive to his touch, how he’d find any excuse for Percival to touch him, how he’d melt against him the few times Percival had taken him into his arms.

Well, he’s dead. Like all the others. Dead and lost.

And Percival’s fractured heart is broken all over again.

* * *

 

Percival has never been fond of closed spaces, not since that first time in the closet when he was a little boy and now his claustrophobia is getting worse.

He refuses to take the elevator, instead he leaves and arrives early for his appointments so that he can take the stairs.

If anyone notices they don’t mention this to him.

“Leave the door open,” he instructs people when they leave his office.

Percival abhors the space he’s given, the vaccuum he’s created about himself, but what is he to do.

There was a monster who ate his life, who stole his face and no one could tell the difference. So what does that make him? Is he nothing but an unloved and unlovely monster hiding inside the closet after all?

He drags his bed over to the window and sleeps (or at least tries to) with it wide open. The sky is vast and cold and dark, but it brings him some comfort to look up the stars.

He can at least pretend that all those he’s lost are looking back down at him.

And if he holds onto his pillow late at night when he can’t sleep, pushing his face deep into it to hide his tears and his sobs, that’s between Percival and the stars. No one else needs to know.  

* * *

 

Percival dreams that he’s back in the closet again. He’s three years old and he’s trapped in there and Mamma isn’t coming and the monster waits outside.

“What do we do?” he asks Thesaurus Bear. “I’m scared.”

“You left me to die,” Thesaurus Bear says. “I trusted you. I loved you. But you left me to be eaten by monsters.”

“I’m sorry,” Percival sobs. “I didn’t mean to leave you. I didn’t want to leave you, but a monster ate me too.”

“It’s because you left me,” Thesaurus Bear growls. “We could have protected each other, but now we’re all alone and it’s all your fault.”

“I’m sorry,” Percival whispers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _I’m sorry._ But what do we do now?”

“Now?” Thesaurus Bear opens his mouth and it’s dark and red and full of teeth. “Now, I eat your life.”

Percival screams.

* * *

 

Someone is shaking him awake.

The same someone slaps him in the face and it shocks Percival enough that he stops screaming. He sits up and gapes at Credence Barebone leaning over him.

“Sorry,” Credence says looking at him with concern. “But you wouldn’t stop screaming.”

“ _Credence_?“ Percival stammers. “They told me you died.”

“I did,” Credence says. “But I got better.”

Percival’s brain doesn’t even attempt to parse the absurdity of that sentence.

“It wasn’t - “ he says. “I wasn’t - It wasn’t me, you know that, don’t you?” he says faintly, desperately. “I would never have hurt you.”

“I know that now,” Credence says. “I should have known it then. I’m sorry,” and he looks as wretched as Percival feels. “I’m sorry I -” the boy’s voice cracks and Percival reaches for him.

Credence sobs and throws himself at Percival. He practically clambers into Percival’s lap as he flings his arms tight around Percival’s neck and - oh -

_Oh_

This is what he’s been missing. 

“I didn’t mean to leave you,” Percival whispers into Credence’s shoulder. He holds onto him tightly. He doesn’t think he’ll ever let him go. “I didn’t want to leave you.”

“I know,” Credence says. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t save you.”

Percival shakes his head and disentangles himself from Credence so he can take his face in his hands and kiss him like he’s wanted to do from the moment he’d first spoken to him.

“Oh, my boy,” he says. “You did.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Man, I have a weakness for writing small kids with oddly named teddy bears. 
> 
> How could you lose Thesaurus Bear, Percy?


End file.
